


Magic, Steel, and Thread

by SarcasmFish (Alcyonidae)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fluff, Fun, Not in love yet but totes will be!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcyonidae/pseuds/SarcasmFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The warrior used the weighty shield emblazoned with a gryphon to knock back several of the spiders that had closed in for a bite. He cautioned a quick glance over his shoulder to the mage at his back. Her shoulders were tense, but also sagged with fatigue. She was exhausting her magic at a dangerous rate. Her arms were a flurry of motion, executing mnemonics of magic and fending back the creatures that got too close with her staff. The fingers that gripped the tall wooden weapon were a trembling white.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic, Steel, and Thread

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to write some magic. I needed to write some smol elf Warden. I needed to write some Alistair. I only had a few minutes free.

The spiders clamored around them, fighting for purchase on their flesh. The creatures were large, about the size of a fully grown Mabari. Their skin crawled with bristly hair, only broken by the numerous sets of beady, featureless eyes. The arachnid’s large bulbous bodies skittered throughout the trees above them, blotting out the beams of sunlight already dimmed by the webs stretching across branches. Flares of magic lit the darkness. Blues and reds glittered off of the serrated fangs, some dripping with steaming poisons. The air swirled with acrid smoke of burned spider skin. They hissed and screamed and sizzled as magic and sword tore through their bodies. Despite the destruction of their kin new warriors continued to join the fight, sliding down silken strands and leaping over their brethren to remove these adversaries.

The two wardens fought back to back, pressed together out of desperation by their numerous foes. They had not had much time together to perfect this dance of battle, but determination tempered their lack of cohesion. The enemy would overwhelm them at any slip. Sweat dripped down their brows and carnage painted their clothing. The air was stale and hot amid the tangy ozone of magic and gore riddled steel.

The warrior used the weighty shield emblazoned with a gryphon to knock back several of the spiders that had closed in for a bite. He cautioned a quick glance over his shoulder to the mage at his back. Her shoulders were tense, but also sagged with fatigue. She was exhausting her magic at a dangerous rate. Her arms were a flurry of motion, executing mnemonics of magic and fending back the creatures that got too close with her staff. The fingers that gripped the tall wooden weapon were a trembling white.

“Astaria! The rest of the party was just behind us. They’ll be here soon.” It was a lie, but he made it sound true. They had ventured ahead of the rest of their group to find a place to make camp. The forest had had other ideas. It had led them into this nest of spiders.

He told the fiction not out of malice, but to bolster hope. It had become quite apparent that the younger woman fighting at his back was a master in the art of magic, but had not had much experience out in the brutal world. She had gone from the elven alienage’s of Denerim to the Circle of Magi, guarded night and day by Templars in a tower surrounded by ocean. She did her best to keep up, but in some tasks like setting up a tent or navigating the imperial highway she fell laughably short.

“I can’t keep this up much longer, Alistair,” she panted. “I’m going to take a risk.”

She thrust the staff above her and the air crackled an electric blue around the end of it. It seemed to distort and suck in the darkness enveloping the forest. When wisps of angry zephyrs swirled around them she finally struck the staff into the ground. The impact cracked the ground with a deafening snap, sending a shockwave of energy rippling out and throwing everything back from its apex.

Alistair blinked slowly, taking in a gasp of air. He was lying on his back, the wind nearly knocked from his lungs. His ears rang from the impact of the spell and the sudden silence that had befallen the forest. He coughed and sat up slowly, an uneasy task. The mail and shield that had assisted in saving his life earlier was a sudden heavy burden. He lifted a hand to his face. It felt as if he had stood too long in a windstorm. The abrasive sand and dust inevitably swept up in one buffeting his skin until it stung. Unsure of the threats surrounding them, he forced himself to a knee, stabbing his sword down into the earth to steady himself.

The underbrush of the forest and low hanging branches were flattened into the healthy black soil around them. Even the bark of the thick, old trees were peeling and cracked. The crawling creatures that had nearly taken their lives were swept yards away, heaped against the trunks of trees like paper blown against a fence. None moved. Their once fidgeting legs bent at odd angles and black eyes stared out with cold emptiness. A few feet away, to his right, one of the webs hung in ragged pieces. A small form was suspended in its center, limp and listless, a staff shattered on the ground in front of it.

Astaria. The warrior compelled himself to his feet, casting aside the shield and using the sword to steady himself. He limped towards her with a cringe, one arm cradling around the ribs that squealed in pain. The broken staff was still crackling with residual energy. He nudged it away carefully with the tip of the sword.

“Astaria!” He called out to her, trying to keep panic from entering his voice. Her head snapped up at the sound and she leveled him with eyes that struggled to focus. He let out a ragged sigh of relief and leaned against the sword like an old man on a cane.

“I think I might have over done it.” She gave him a tired grin, finally meeting his eyes. He laughed at the understatement. “I’ve never really used that spell outside of the Circle.”

He winced, the laugher causing a wave of pain through his ribs. “So, tell me. How many of your spells are going to light me on fire, electrocute me, and flatten me into the dirt?

“Well, maybe if you weren’t in the way all the time.” She tugged at her arm that was firmly stuck to the spider web. “Now if you’d be so kind as to cut me down from here.”

“No, no. I think it’s time I stand up for myself.” He paced a short distance in front of her, as if making a grand speech to an army, his voice raising a boastful octave. “No more toasty Alistair!”

“Alistair!” She complained, attempting to pull herself free. The expense of so much magic and the draining of adrenalin rendered the endeavor useless.

“Is it because I was almost a Templar? Is this some sort of mage’s revenge?” He was still pacing back and forth, dragging the tip of the sword through the dirt and pretending to be oblivious to her struggle.

She sighed in exasperation, the puff of air flicking a few strands of hair from her forehead. “Alright, you’ve caught on to my grand scheme, Alistair. I knew I couldn’t hide it from you. It’s all just been a clever ploy to get you on your back.”

“Ah ha! I thought….” He stopped in his pacing and whirled around to face her, the double meaning of her words finally reaching him. “What?” he choked.

The mage smirked gleefully at him. Alistair had a quip for everything and a silver-tongue. Flustering him was treated as a grand feat.

“You have wounded my honor, my lady.” He stabbed the sword down into the ground far enough to hold it and then turned to withdraw. “I take my leave.” The grandiose display was marred by the slight limp as he stalked away.

“Alistair! You can’t just leave me up here!” He continued walking, disappearing behind a bough of trees and underbrush. She waited a moment for him to end the ruse and return. The forest continued its silent musing. “Very funny! You can come back now!”

She scowled and pulled with a bit more force at her extremities trapped in the web. This served to only embed her further into the sticky substance. She glanced out into the forest again, eyes searching the timber and thickets. A distant bird song and rustle of wind betrayed the serenity of the forest.

“Alistair!” She yelled again out into the woods, a bit of panic creeping into her voice. Finally, deep laughter broke the stillness and the warrior hobbled back into view.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts!” He continued to chuckle as her scowl deepened, one arm still clutching his torso.

“I hope you’ve gotten your fill of amusement at my expense. Now cut me down from here before those creatures return.”

“Yes, right away.” He pulled the sword from the earth, little giggles still slipping free each time he caught sight of her disapproving visage. He slipped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling and then set about chopping her free from the webbing with the sword. Once loosened from the trap he set her down on her feet. The smaller elf huffed and attempted to brush the remaining webs still clinging to her robe. Alistair watched her, quite a proud grin fixed on his face.

She caught his eye and glowered at him again. “What?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” She rolled her eyes and causing him to laugh again. “Actually, you’re quite adorable when you’re so upset.”

She narrowed her eyes and stepped up to him, her shorter stature forcing her have to glare up at him. He seemed to momentarily falter, as if unsure if their playful jesting had suddenly become serious. She abruptly perched up onto her toes and planted a handful of clingy spider webbing into his hair.

“Ack!” He staggered back, a hand flying up into his hair, too late to remove it. It was his turn to scowl at her. “I guess you were listening when I mentioned that hair obsession.”

She grinned broadly up at him, arms crossing her chest. “See what pride gets you, ser knight!”

“Yes, yes. You win.” He sighed and gave up on picking the bits of spider silk from his hair. “Alright, we should probably let the rest of our group know we still thrive.”

The mage picked up a few of the larger pieces of the broken staff, looking on at them a bit forlornly. The magic had drained out of it. It was merely a fractured hunk of wood now. She finally shrugged and tossed them back onto the ground, turning to follow him from the forest. “You weren’t really going to leave me up there, were you?”

The warrior merely laughed.


End file.
